Before Twilight Alice & Jasper's Point of Views
by Alice Everdeen
Summary: We all know Alice and Jasper are two of the most adored vampire lovebirds in the history of mankind, right? But what about before they met? This tells their stories, as accurate as possible to the books. My first fanfiction story, so REVIEW please!
1. Chapter 1: How To Save a Life

**NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED! ALL RIGHTS TO TO STEPHENIE MEYER!**

Copyright to this story belongs to me, Alice Everdeen. No stealing.

ALICE'S POV

"You're ridiculous. I can't believe you always win. I'm never playing with you again." She flung down her cards angrily and strode out of the room. I let her go - that's what Cynthia always said after a game of Go Fish with me. Her competitive nature usually urged her to come back for a rematch within a couple of hours.

I smiled to myself as I put up the cards and stuffed them onto a shelf in my over-crowded, poster-covered, pink-painted, shopping bag-filled room. I didn't exactly know what made me so good at that particular game, but I just kind of…got this feeling of what colors or numbers she had in her hand. I had that "feeling" with other things, too - like what exact outfit my sister would wear, before I even saw her in the morning. Just small things, but still…It was weird, I'll admit. But I wasn't complaining. It helped me get revenge on her for all the times she beat me into the dust at soccer. Yeah… sports wasn't exactly my thing, if you know what I mean.

I was 15 years old and 4'9. Scary right? Yeah, and you thought you were made fun of at school. Pipsqueak, shortie, munchkin, I got all of 'em. I was skinny, though, and not too bad-looking, if I do say so myself, so I did get dates now and again…or every night. Hey, what can I say? I'm a huge flirt.

My name is Alice. Well, okay Mary Alice. But who goes by a stupid name like that? Yeah, NO. IDEA. what my parents were thinking when they came up with that one… My sister got the good luck. Cynthia. Now that's a name, right there.

I was content with my life. Everything was exactly as I imagined a normal American teenage girl's life would be like. I went to the mall with my friends, went out with boys, fought with my parents, bickered with my sister. I had it all. I was living the life, man.

Until that day.

It was a Sunday afternoon. Me and Cynthia were still in our Sunday church dresses and we were flaunting it. And I mean, full-out strutting around our obtuse backyard like supermodels. Our yard was like The Sound of Music all over again. Four acres of nothing but hills, grass, and flowers. It was beautiful.

I remember feeling so free there, so alive, and just plain…happy. I also remember I never felt like that again until I met Jasper. My Jasper. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the flaunting.

We pranced around like princesses, holding hands, skipping, twirling. My hair was long then. My mother always loved to twirl it around her fingers whenever her mind wandered. My mom's hair beautiful, so I had literally no clue why she always admired mine. Her was chopped off at her shoulders and a glowing light blonde. I'd always longed for blonde hair. Just so I could be like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty or some other anorexic blonde princess. But I guess I just had to settle for Snow White with my black locks. My sisiter's was a sandy tan, like our father's. Their hair looked just alike, length and all - cropped off at the middle of the neck. They could have passed as twins in another life.

Our family was happy, and so was I. I'd never even dreamed any thing would go wrong in my plan. And by plan, I don't mean like a plan for "world domination" or whatever. I mean my plan for my life. I'd even written it all out in my diary - I'd graduate from high school (maybe college), marry a handsome gentleman, raise a family, and live happily ever after. Quite practical, really.

But all of that went down the drain (although I wouldn't realize it until afterward) when I happened to glance over at my carefree sister, flipping her hair blissfully and prancing into one of the small valleys our backyard held. My vision flickered. I saw her again, but this time farther away from me. It was as if she'd just disappeared and then reappeared 5 yards ahead of where she'd been just seconds before. But, there was also something wrong with the scene. It was blurry, like looking through someone else's glasses when you don't need them. And the edges were shaking. Oh, crap. Am I going blind? Am I going mad? What's wrong with me?

My jumbled and confused thoughts turned to ones of panic as Cynthia reached the bottom of the valley, smiled and waved up at me, then looked into the sky and turned alabaster white. The air was quickly filling with black smoke, the smell of gasoline, and the most discordant, ear-piercing sound you ever heard. A small plane was diving around the sky, shaking, and flipping, circling in spirals until, nose-down, crashed into the valley where my sister had been. The plane burst into flames, lighting the grass on fire, and blew up in an earth-shaking crash.

My vision flickered again. This time, it was normal, no shaking or blurriness. Cynthia. No plane. About 10 feet away from me, prancing, heading towards the bottom of the valley.

The plane. Fire raising it's fingers to the sky, nothing but smoke. Loud, scary, chaos.

My sister. Halfway down the valley. Crap, crap, CRAP!

I screamed, "CYNTHIA! COME BACK! COME BACK, NOW!"

Thank God she was an obedient child. Scared my expression, I think, she sprinted back up to the edge of the valley, where I was standing. I took her in my arms and squeezed the life out of her. I didn't know what to think. What had happened? Had it even happened? Was I really going mad?

I looked up, still hugging Cynthia as tight as I could. There was no sight of a crashing plane, smoke, or fire.

"Hey, hey okay, enough with the love fest! What's the matter?" She pulled back, and looked at my face.

"Nothing…I…" I didn't know what to say…"Hey, Cynthia, I just saw you die in a plane crash at the bottom of that valley, so I figured I'd better call you back up here"? Yeah, THAT would go over well.

"Liss, you alright?" Using my nickname, she pulled my face up until I had to look at her. Although 3 years older, I was still much shorter than my loving sister.

"Yeah…well, truthfully, I just wanted to tell you-" but Cynthia never got to hear what I wanted to tell her, because at that moment, both of our head snapped up to look at the sky. Ear-spitting grinding, crashing, sparking noises filled the air as one of the plane's engines blew up, and the plane came spiraling down into the valley where my sister had been headed only minutes before. As I had seen, the plane blew up, lighting everything in it's path on fire, and bits of metal and ash rained down from the sky.

I didn't realize I'd just been standing there with an open mouth until Cynthia yanked my arm, hard, and dragged me along with her as we ran as far as we could away from the explosion. After we'd made it about an acre, we both fell, panting, onto the grass. I looked back at the crash - all that was left was bits of metal here and there, some fire from where the grass was still alight, and lots of ash.

We were safe for the time being, and it started to rain, putting out the rest of the fire, and drenching us to the bone. In Colorado, we had cold, cold rain that felt like it was soaking into your veins, and with only our Sunday dresses on, Cynthia and I soon began to shiver violently. We got up, and walked back 2 miles to our house.

It was the longest walk I'd ever had. Not only the distance, nor the ice-cold rain, but the pounding of my head and thoughts flying around the bees in my skull. I had two more "visions" (as I soon came to call them) on the way back. Both blurry, shaking, and drifting back and forth between the real world and it's world. The first one was dark. I could hear inhuman screaming and pounding on what sounded like metal and fist. It scared me. The second one was happy. It was of 5 of the most beautiful people (if you could even call them that) I'd ever seen. They were all sitting in a large room with glass walls. The youngest (or so it looked) was playing the piano gracefully - a tune I could tell could only be preformed by a master. A kind-looking lady was standing beside him, looking as proud as a mom on graduation day. One large, muscular, dark-haired boy was playing chess with the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life - luscious, blonde hair, slender frame, and long eyelashes. Just the way I'd imagined a princess to look. The last, a yellowish-white-haired man was reading a book on their spacious sofa. They were all so different, and yet so alike in small but noticable ways. They all had the palest skin I'd ever seen on a person, the exact same shade, and the same golden eyes. I wanted the vision to last longer, but when my vision flickered back to reality, I realized it was over and I'd probably never see that beautiful family (at least, I presumed they were) again. By the time we got back, we were both freezing, numb, and soaked.

Not ready to explain to our parents what happened, I fell, exhausted, down onto one of the cushioned love seats on our screen porch. I buried my face in my hands, and heaved a big sigh. I felt Cynthia's hand on my shoulder, and looking up, saw that she was crying. I pulled her down beside me on the love seat, and wrapped my arms around her as she buried her face into my neck and sobbed.

"You saved my life," she said in between two exceptionally violent shudders. "How did you do it? How did you know?"

All of my muscles clenched up. I froze. How had I done it? I'd thought about it on the miserable walk home, and prayed that Cynthia would think it was coincidence. I knew now that she wasn't THAT dumb.

I was loony tunes. That was the only explanation I could think of. How else had I been able to know what was coming before it actually happened? I was going mad. With this thought in my head, I buried my face into my little sister's hair and sobbed along with her.

I had seen the future, and I didn't have the slightest clue how.


	2. Chapter 2: Pain, Without Love

**NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED! ALL RIGHTS TO TO STEPHENIE MEYER!**

Copyright to this story belongs to me, Alice Everdeen. No stealing.

Alice's POV

So there you have it. My first vision happened when I was 15. Why not before then? I really don't know, maybe that's like the "age" for future-seers to start having visions. I never watched that kind of sci-fi stuff when I was younger.

My question was why me. Why did my life have to be ruined by some weird genetic mess up in my system? Was it random? Was I meant to have this gift? What was I supposed to do with it? Would it last forever? Could I control the visions? Could I turn them off somehow?

Unanswered questions knocked around in my already-killing-me head as I held my sister's hand as we walked into the house, dripping wet and shivering. We stood awkwardly in the doorway, freezing our butts off, and waited for the ambush.

Our wait was not in vain. As soon as my parents - my dad watching the sports channel and my mom reading some gooey romance book in the living room - caught sight of us, they sprung up and rushed at us like waves on the seashore.

"Where were you?" "What happened?" "Did you hear that explosion, it sounded so close to our house!" "You're not hurt, are you?" "Did something blow up?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and my thumb as I explained to them what happened. Well…all except the whole creepy weird future-seeing thing. But, other that that small detail, pretty much the whole truth. The frolicking, the plane, the explosion, the rain, the walk. Cynthia let me do all the talking, as she wasn't a very good liar, and our parents would probably know something was up if she told the story.

Our parents faces grew paler with each sentence. After I was finished, they hugged us tightly and told us to go to bed early.

As I walked to my room, each step I took put another heavy cement block of dread in my stomach. Maybe I was going crazy. But then…how had I known about the plane thing? If I was on a bus to crazy town, I don't think I would be able to actually see the future…would I?

I plopped down on my comforter, not even bothering to undress, and climbed beneath the sheets, (willing my brain to not wander to the incident earlier), before crawling into unconsciousness…

I remember waking up sometime in the middle of the night and having another vision. I think at the time, I thought it was a dream. The beautiful family was there again. I was ecstatic to see them again, for reasons completely unknown to me. They all looked the same, except their eyes seemed…darker? Somehow… And then my vision shifted to a girl in her room, sleeping. She wasn't as super-model-like as the others, I thought, not as pale, but still pretty in her own way… One of the beautiful boys I'd seen was peering in her window. Then, my vision shifted to another, more treacherous scene. It was my…father? He was walking down a dark alleyway in the city. I knew the street, it was right by his office. He walked past it on the way to and from work every day. Dad peered at his watch. 11:34 pm, March 8th - tomorrow. Why was he out so late?

Just then, a trashcan dumped over nearby, sending a scrawny cat sprinting for another cover. Three men emerged out of the darkness.

One was holding a gun.

I screamed at my dad. I tried to get to him, but I was just watching the scene, not actually in it. My voice was nowhere to be found as I yelled and cried and pleaded with him to run. My father's face was at first one of fear, then acceptance. He knew what was coming next.

"Please. I have two daughters." he said faintly.

Then, the man shot. Daddy doubled over and fell to the ground, blood from his stomach spreading quickly across the dirty ground.

The men shuffled away and there was silence for a long while (or at least it seemed like it to me). I tried to get out of the vision, but nothing worked! Until…police sirens filled the air.

I emerged from the midnight vision in a cold sweat, and shot up straight, tangled in sheets. My face was streaked with tears and a strange sound I couldn't control was coming from my throat.

"Dad! Daddy!" I yelled into the darkness, sobbing harder.

He came rushing in, disheveled in his bathrobe and pajama pants. He sat on the edge of my bed and wrapped his arms around me.

"What is it, honey?" he asked as he stroked my long, black hair. A few minutes passed as I sobbed into his bathrobe, whimpering now and again, and held him tightly.

I finally looked up at him. "You can't go to work tomorrow, Daddy." I whispered.

"And why is that?"

"Daddy…you're going to die." I said it with desperation and hopelessness in my voice, as if he already had.

He started at me blankly for a moment before a smile tugged at the side of his mouth. "You're messing with me. Haha, good one."

"No! No, Dad, I'm not! At 11:34, tomorrow night, you're going to be shot by three men in the alleyway by your office! Oh, Daddy, please listen to me, I'm not making this up!"

He shook his head in disbelief and looked at me sternly. "This is a really sick joke, Alice."

I was getting desperate. I explained to him about my vision in the fields, about everything. How I'd always known little things before they actually happened, went into detail about the various strange visions I'd had in the past few hours, and told him about the latest, most horrific one last.

A part of me expected him to believe me, but a bigger part of me knew he wouldn't, so I wasn't as disappointed as I thought I'd be when he said, "Mary Alice Brandon. That's enough, young lady. You are WAY out of line." Then, he marched out of the room and went back to sleep, soundly.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

The next morning, I tried everything to convince my dad not to leave for work. Nothing succeeded, and by the time he drove away, I was in tears again. I tried to run after his car, but Cynthia grabbed me and demanded to know what was going on.

I refused to tell her at first for the sole reason that I didn't want her to go through the agony I was going thought right now. She soon won that battle, however, and I ended up giving in and telling her my vision. Her face had drained of all color and she didn't talk to anyone for the rest of the day.

I was helpless. I knew what was going to happen (after all, my last vision came true, didn't it?) and there was nothing I could do about it. My mother made me stay inside the house, and even when I tried sneaking out, banging on windows and doors, and yelling at her face, she stayed strong. I admire that woman.

I knew she was really worried for me. Worried for my sanity. But, then again, so was I.

So I did the only thing I could do to keep me sane - I convinced myself it wasn't going to happen. I convinced myself that the vision wasn't going to come true - it was a figment of my imagination.

And it almost worked. Almost.

The day passed by as slow as freaking molasses. At 11:30, after my mom and sister had gone to bed and I couldn't take it any longer, I snuck out the back door and ran down the street. I didn't know what to do or what to think. My world was crashing down on me. What if my dad was really dying and I couldn't do anything about it?

In mid-run, I skid to the ground and buried my face in the grass. I was probably about a half-mile from home.

Just then, I heard police sirens fill the air.

NO.

They were getting closer.

PROBABLY JUST TURNING DOWN THE STREET.

Closer.

IT COULDN'T BE.

Then, the flashing car turned down our street and past me, straight for our house.

At that moment, my heart filled with emotion, and yet was numb. I was angry at myself for not doing anything, angry for having the vision in the first place. Denial - no, he couldn't be…he couldn't be DEAD. Sadness of course, and a deep pain that I hope none of you have to ever experience in your lifetime. And through all of this…yet I felt nothing. Thought nothing. I didn't even have another vision.

They found me there in the morning, curled in a ball and choking on dirt. I'd never lost a loved one before, Cynthia explained to the officer with tear-stained cheeks.

They carried me back to the house, put me on the couch, and that was when I realized my mom wasn't there.

After the police left and took all the commotion with them, Cynthia was staring blankly in the kitchen, pretending to watch TV. I pulled myself up and dragged my feet down the hallway and into my mom's room.

The moment she heard me come in, she looked up wearily, and sank her head back into her hands.

I went to comfort her, but she just got up from the bed and started pacing her room. Back and forth, back and forth she went.

"Are you okay?" Nice move, Alice. YOU are quite a smart cookie. As if I didn't already know the answer.

"No." she answered simply. It was obvious she hadn't slept at all last night. Her hair was a deranged mess, she had heavy bags under her eyes, and her back was hunched over like someone who'd gone through way too much in their lifetime.

I looked around me on the bed. There were papers and fliers, brochures even. I picked one up.

"Shady Valley Asylum" I read out loud, "What the heck is this?" I narrowed my eyes…she couldn't…she wouldn't…

"I think you need some help, Mary." she pinched the bridge of her nose as she said this, using my real name (which she knew I loathed). "You're seeing things you simply shouldn't see, and it's not…normal."

"Mom…you're not…sending me there…I mean, that's crazy…Are you?" There was defeat in my voice. Because, in fact, I knew her plan and I also knew that I had now way to stop it.

She just shook her head again, but stopped her pacing at looked me in the eye. "It's for your own good. This could help you, it could make you normal again!"

Tears prickled my eyes. So now I was a freak. I get it.

"You don't understand! Did Cynthia tell you I saved her life? Yeah, Mom, I saved my sisters life with this…"gift" - whatever! That was just nothing? Mom, I could use this to save people, to make their lives better!"

"Oh no you won't, young lady! You're going. It's for your own good and who knows? Maybe…maybe you'll meet some new friends!" She said this last bit half-heartedly, but I didn't notice. I was outraged.

"You're sending me…to the CRAZY HOUSE because I saved someone's life and tried to save another's?" I screamed this at the top of my lungs, and she flinched.

Just then, a truck pulled up outside with "Shady Valley" written in fancy script on the side. Two men dressed in white coats (just like I'd always pictured scientists to look) strolled up to our house and rang the doorbell.

No. This couldn't be happening. One moment I was happy, frolicking and minding my own business, and the next I'm being sent away for being CRAZY?

My mom tried to get past me to answer the door, but I blocked the way. I wasn't about to let her send me away, no way, Jose.

"Move aside." she said firmly, "I'm doing this for you. I'm doing this for our family, Alice, don't you understand that?"

"NO! I DON'T, ACTUALLY! BECAUSE ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS HOW FREAKING THRILLED I AM TO BE GOING TO THE FREAKING LOONY BIN BECAUSE I HAVE A GIFT THAT COULD SAVE YOUR CRAPPY LIFE, MOM!"

She stared, open mouthed at me for a moment before we heard shuffling and footsteps down the hallway. The white-lab-coat-guys had let themselves in, obviously hearing the yelling, and were now in the doorway.

I flung myself at my mom.

"YOU'RE NOT SENDING ME AWAY! YOU CAN'T! I WON'T LET YOU!"

The lab coats took action, restraining me and grappling my arms into a hold. They were much bigger, older, and stronger than I was, so it wasn't much of a feat, to be honest. They wrestled me outside and, opening the trunk of their van, strapped me onto a long board…just like the one Hannibal the Cannibal was on when he was taken into the asylum.

I screamed and yelled and kicked and flailed and did everything humanly possible to make these strange men get off of me and stop treating me like an animal, like a crazy person. Because I was NOT crazy. I knew I wasn't. I knew it in my heart that this gift I had was not meant for me to be locked up because of. I was NOT crazy.

I still struggled, and the last thing I saw was the larger of the lab coats grabbing my arm and sticking a very large needle all the way into it.

Then, my world went black.


	3. Chapter 3: Comatose

**NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED! ALL RIGHTS TO TO STEPHENIE MEYER!**

Copyright to this story belongs to me, Alice Everdeen. No stealing

Alice POV

Loneliness is a curious thing. Something you wouldn't think would almost literally kill you. Being alone. Company is not like food, not something we humanly need to survive. Although it seems like it sometimes. Loneliness is something that makes you crazy, if you weren't already. And if you were…even crazier.

Darkness is an even funnier thing. Does funny things to your mind. Weird things. Makes you imagine things that aren't there. Hear things. And darkness combined with loneliness equals eventual…insanity.

I flailed and squirmed once again as he grabbed my arm for the eighteenth time today and shoved the needle into my arm. I guess I'd been screaming again. The pinch hurt and bled and I kicked the man. I started to yell at him, telling him to stop it and asking him if he knew how much pain I was in. I think I screamed some other things, few of which made sense. I wanted to hurt this man who hurt me day after day. I tried to grab him, but he kicked me in the stomach and I slouched away from him again. He then turned, slammed my cell door shut, and went to get Him. I shuddered.

As soon as the man was out of sight, I grabbed the rock laying by the flat mattress I called my bed and scraped another mark on the damp, dark, chalky wall. This was my way of keeping the sanity I still held onto. My way of knowing how long I'd been in here. 587 days, by my count. The wall was black, like everything else here. In fact, I think at one point I figured that if I went out into bright sunlight then, I'd burn into a crisp like a vampire. Ha ha. I ironic.

He strode into my cell for the second time this week and stood over me. His look was one of a predator to his prey. Or even worse than that, not even his prey. Dirt that his prey walks upon. Just dirt. That was all I was to anyone now - nothing.

I couldn't' help it, I growled at him. His thin mouth turned down at one corner in disgust. He snapped his fingers and two of the scientist men grabbed me by the upper arms and dragged me down the hall. I struggled, trust me, but I gave up after a while. I knew it was no use. I knew where I was going, but I also knew there was nothing I could do about it. I was going to the shock room…for the second time this week and probably the millionth time since I'd been here. In fact, it was the first thing they tried when I'd arrived here. Talk about your friendly welcome. They'd also chopped off all my long black hair to a short crop. That'd made me cry. Little did I know how much crying I'd do in the next year.

They strapped me down to the dirty white table and wrapped the straps around my neck, wrists, and ankles. Small shocks at first. Nothing too horrible. Then they got worse. Buzzing and electrifying my skin. Going deep into my bones and making me cry out in agony. I can't describe how close I was to death in these small meetings with the shock room. If there was any word to describe pitiful life, it would be hell.

I didn't want to die, though. I didn't have purpose, no one who really cared for me besides my Friend. My parents had sent me here and had visited at first…but as the condition got worse, they'd stopped bothering. My sister had put up quite a fight at first. She'd even devised a plan to break me out. So my parents had stopped letting her come altogether. No one visited. Not one of my old friends.

But yet I thought there was something out there for me somewhere. For a few reasons. One, because I was still having visions of the beautiful family that I now so wanted to be a part of. They all loved each other dearly, I knew from what I saw in my visions, and I wanted that for my life. I thought that maybe, someday, I could join them. I hoped to. Two, because I kept seeing visions of myself with a boy. We were just walking down the street. Every time. At first, he had no face. Then, as time went on, his features came into the picture. He was beautiful, blonde, and very experienced-looking, like he'd been through more than anyone ever could imagine. I wanted to find him, to be with him. But how could that vision even be true, if I was stuck in here for the rest of my life? It wasn't like my gift would just turn off all of a sudden. I didn't know if I wanted it to. It had become a daily routine for me now, seeing these things that might or might not have anything to do with me, but usually came true in the soon future. Except for the ones of the beautiful family and the boy. They were always the same.

A few months after being admitted into this torture house, a man had started to come visit me. I didn't know him. At least, I didn't think I did. A lot of happy memories of my past had erased themselves from my mind in an attempt to stay sane. I struggled day after day, however, to keep the memory of my sister ingrained in my brain. How she looked, what she smelled like, but after a while and a few more torture methods, I could feel them fading until I couldn't place her voice anymore. That day, I had screamed more than any other. I'd gone to the shock room three times. The man, who came to visit me everyday now, had at first, seemed oddly familiar, however. I soon realized that he resembled the beautiful creatures in my visions, the family, in a way. His paleness and his plain beauty, or maybe the grace in which he moved reminded me so much of them that I grew to love the man, just because he resembled them. He'd told me that he didn't know me, but that he had felt bad for me, being cooped up in here day after day, and that he'd like to visit with me, talk with me, if that was alright. He knew just what to say. I told him it was, but wondered why in the world this handsome man would want to come and talk with some psycho in an asylum who he hadn't even met before. It was just…strange.

I said I'd loved the man, but I also never trusted him. Something about him made me nervous. I think it was the way he looked at me, like I was food. He always stared at me for long periods of time and inhaled deeply whenever he was near me. Or maybe it was his eyes, a very odd purplish color that looked like he had blue eyes that he'd put red contacts over. I'd never seen a color like it, it was unnatural. And it kind of creeped me out. Or just maybe it was how my Friend looked at him. It was completely obvious that he did not like the man, or trust him around me. He never failed to keep a close watch on him while he was near me. And one time, when the man had asked to shake my hand before he left, my Friend appeared out of nowhere, opened my cell door, and told the man it was time to go. The man's name was James.

I both loved and trusted my Friend. He was always there for me, when nobody else was. He worked at the asylum, but he wasn't like the other workers, who just cared about keeping me quiet, no matter what means that required. He talked with me, cared about me, and knew me more than anybody had in a long while. He always asked me about my visions, and thought my gift was a wonderful and fascinating thing rather than a curse. I still asked him, though, if my visions were a gift, why they ended me up in this awful place. His answer was always simple. Bad things happen to good people. And he was right. My Friend was the one who brought me most of my skimpy meals (and threw in an extra apple when he had one and no one was looking) and soothed me when I went into one of my fits. He was never the one to take me to the shock room or some other "treatment" they always cooked up for me.

My Friend was like my dad or my grandfather. He was a tall and skinny man, but very kind-looking. He had amber eyes, an odd color, like red contacts over brown eyes or brown contacts over red eyes. He was very, very pale and very handsome and graceful, like James in some ways, and like the family in my visions. Or maybe I was just really going crazy in the literal sense of the world and they all looked nothing alike. That was a more logical solution, and worked better with my very abused brain. My Friend had a wide, goofy smile that makes you want to laugh. When we had our short conversations (usually when everyone else had gone to sleep, and through cell bars, but still nonetheless conversations), everything on my mind spilled out, I got everything off my chest, and we usually ended up talking for hours. My Friend cared about me deeply. I suppose that's why he took me away that one day…

725 days. Almost 2 years in this black hole of a cell. I was 17. I could feel my life withering away from me in this cell - my person hell. Would I ever get out? If I did, what would I do, go back to my family? I didn't think so… But then, what? Maybe I'd try to find the beautiful family I was still having visions about day in and day out. I was becoming a little obsessed with them, to be perfectly honest. Or maybe I'd try to find the boy I was now not just having visions about but dreaming about as well. The only problem was… I didn't know where to find either one of these, or even if they existed at all.

On the 8th of September I awakened from my sleep to find James peering down at me with a hungry expression on his face. It startled me. I jumped up and off my mattress and instantly darted to the other side of the room, where I stood flat against the wall. I didn't trust anyone anymore, except my Friend, and I was getting a little crazy with paranoia. The darkness was starting to have effects on me, and my description was now "jumpy, paranoid, and insane", according to the medics at the asylum.

James tilted his head to the side and sauntered towards me. My Friend was nowhere to be found, and I was afraid. He saw it in my eyes and held out his hands in front of him, palms out, like a criminal in front of an officer. "I won't hurt you", his gesture said.

"It's alright, Alice." his voice was luring, too soft and velvety smooth. I didn't trust it. I sank further back into the wall. And still, he came closer.

"S-stop." My voice was shaky from lack of use of my vocal chords, and it sounded uncertain, even to me.

"I just wanted to talk." One of his hands came down on my shoulder, hard and cold, and I shivered. He was coming closer. He inhaled deeply…sniffing me? What should I do, scream?

"Enough visiting time for today, James." My Friend suddenly appeared, the door to the cell wide open. He looked sterner than I'd ever seen him. A bit scary, even… I didn't like it.

James spun around, surprised and startled as I was, and reluctantly dropped his hand from my shoulder and took a step back.

"We were just talking." James said casually, but a little to coldly, like he was trying hard to keep his cool.

"I think you have somewhere to be, don't you, James?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't."

"You're not authorized to be in this cell without my permission right now."

"I'm apologize, I was unaware. I'll just come back tomorrow, then." And he turned then and swept from the room without another word.

I looked from my Friend, to the place where James had been standing, my brain not working fast enough to put everything together.

"Huh?" I said, my voice cracking, clearly confused.

My Friend glanced down the hallway anxiously and then came over to me and stooped down to my height to talk to me, sternly but quietly.

"You have to get out of here. You can't stay. It's not safe. I waited as long as I could, but even if we ban him from seeing you, he'll find a way." Now I was really confused. And scared. What did he mean, 'find a way'? Find a way to what?

"I'm getting you out. Right now. Everyone else is asleep, stay close to me, and I'll take care of the guards."

I knew I had to trust him. I didn't know what was going on, why we had to leave, or what he meant by "take care of" but nevertheless, I followed him out of my black burrow and into the dark hallway of the asylum for the first time in almost two years.

We started down the hallway, and I realized, by looking out one of the rare windows in the place, that it was the middle of the night. Man, I was getting my times mixed up. What I really needed was a good sleep schedule. Some of my curious cellmates glanced up as we passed by, but kept quiet, and we continued down. What would we do when we reached the lobby? Where was he taking me?

I was seriously weak from lack of exercise and food, and he had to support almost my whole weight (which, by this point, wasn't much) as we reached the end of the long, damp hallway and into the lobby. I started to drift and out of consciousness… a year's worth of malnutrition started to catch up with me and I collapsed. I could hear voices but could see nothing except shapes and figures. Visions flowed in and out of my mind and I couldn't keep up with reality. But in some conscious part of my brain, I realized that I was seconds from escape, from the life I had before this and could return to if I could just reach those doors…

"Play along." I heard my Friend order me. Then, to my immense surprise, he roughly grabbed me by the arms and pulled them behind my back. He was stronger than I'd thought, and his hands were icy cold and stone hard. But I was too out of it to really care. He dragged me a few feet across cold, cold tile, and I tried to "play along" by struggling, and screaming now and again, even in a state of serious illness.

"Completely gone. This one's gonna need the special treatment." My Friend murmured sinisterly to his comrades, who he was now turning against to help me. It wouldn't be hard for them to believe him. I was going mad, I could now see what was going on but it was all blurry and going in and out of focus, and I was freaking out. I saw the guards nod and push a big green button that creakily slid open the doors to the asylum. The freedom I'd been longing for the past 2 years…finally… I could almost taste it.

The warm night air was like a shock that went through my whole body. I wanted to stand still and soak it in forever. Years of darkness, pain, fear, cold…If I could break free from my Friend, I could make it…

"And don't even think of trying to get away. You haven't eaten properly in more than a year, and I _will catch you." He said this as if reading my mind, and looked down at me seriously. All I could manage was a nod. He was still supporting me, but I could stand up a little on my own now._

"_Where are you taking me? Wh-what did you mean by…" My brain was fuzzy. I tried to remember his words. "It's not safe? Or whatever… Does this have to do with James?" At the mention of his name, my Friend's arm tightened around me._

"_No time to explain. I have to make you safe. Whatever it takes. I won't let him." He looked down at me, his eyes full of determination._

"_What are you g-going to do?" I was afraid. What did he mean? How was he going to make me safe? From what? We had reached his car by now. He slid me gingerly into the passenger's seat and then walked around to get into the driver's. His car smelled strongly of tobacco and peppermint._

_It was dark. So dark. I wanted to be in the light. I wanted so much more out of my life than I'd gotten so far. I wanted happiness and joy and the family in my visions and the boy in my dreams. I was out of hell, but I couldn't get to heaven. I was stuck in a car with my only Friend who wouldn't even let me step outside. If he didn't take me out that place to set me free…what was he planning to do with me?_

_My brain started to go numb. I was all fuzzy from lack of…really everything I need to survive. Food, water, exercise…love. I started seeing vision, one after the other, then a glimpse of reality, then more visions. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel. The boy from my dreams, holding my hand. The beautiful family, running through a forest at the speed of light, my Friend in the darkness slowly leaning toward me. I could feel no emotion to any of these things, no thoughts whatsoever. The boy squeezing my hand and looking at me, eyes full of bliss. The family catching up with a pack of wild buck. My Friend's hair in my face, his face at the level of my neck. I didn't even feel the pain when he bit me._

_The last thing I remembered was looking out the window and seeing the lights of the city. Bright, bright lights. I wanted to go with those lights, wherever they were going. They looked like they were going somewhere happy. I remembered the black leather seat beneath me. And I remembered the smell of tobacco and peppermint._


End file.
